Workingmen, beer and St. Louis

In A New Religion in Mecca: Memoir of a Renegade Brewery in St. Louis, among the many topics Tom Schlafly touches on are workingmen and the image of beer (maybe that’s just one topic).

Schlafly, whose Saint Louis Brewery opened as a brewpub in 1991 and grew into a regional brewery, makes a fine point about the price of beer (and thus adds to the discussion about cheap beer) in a pub.

I am constantly mindful that customers in bars and restaurants willingly pay nearly three times as much for a glass of beer as the same amount of beer would cost in a supermarket. Considering that they could be drinking the same beer at home for nearly two-thirds les, what do bars and restaurants offer that’s worth such a premium?

EllieAnd who drinks Schlafly beer? The question is particularly relevant in St. Louis, where drinkers are understandably loyal to Anheuser-Busch and the union workers who work in its factories. When Saint Louis Brewery decided to sell bottled beer in 1996, Schlafly and his partners had good reason to look at their branding, and reconsider the elegant Swiss-looking logo they had chosen for their taproom.

Core, a local advertising agency, quickly took them to task. One of agency’s owners explained yuppies would buy products with a blue collar image, but blue collar workers wouldn’t buy products with a yuppie image. The issue didn’t have to be money. A bricklayer wouldn’t think of buying a Volvo, but would spend more money on a Dodge Ram pickup.

We acknowledged that there were those who regarded beer from microbreweries as “designer beer,” just as Evian was derided as “designer water.” The purveyors of such products were seen as duping consumers into paying exorbitant prices for something that wasn’t any better than the more reasonably priced mainstream version. We therefore made the conscious decision to position Schlafly as a traditional beer for everyone, not as a drink primarily for pretentious, overeducated elitists. We adopted the slog “Beer the way it used to be” as a means of underscoring this message.

The photo of a case box (above) gives you an idea of the result. This isn’t a matter of a brewery trying to “fool” customers. Schlafly writes, “We wanted every aspect of the package to remind consumer that we were offering beers that the mainstream breweries were no longer interested in making.”

Beers that workingmen drank more than a century ago.

Now, about the book itself. Even if you keep a beer at your side throughout you should be able to walk and talk when you are done reading. Schlafly writes in an engaging style and the book is just over 100 pages, without most of the business detail in recent books such at Beer School (Brooklyn Brewery) and Brewing up a Business (Dogfish Head Brewery).

I must note, though, that the book is much more entertaining if you already know the city of St. Louis, the Saint Louis Brewery and its two pubs, and particularly any of the people who work there.

Schlafly writes, “When we founded the Saint Louis brewery, we seemed to attract people steeped in liberal arts. faithful to the medieval preference for artes liberales over artes illiberales, almost no one had had any training that could be consider practical or useful when it came to operating a brewery.

Sixteen years later many of those same people are still there. Working men and women everyone.

How many beers before I die?

Jon Abernathy has completed his “50 beers to drink before you die” series at The Brew Site. Why would I mention this given that I’ve already declared the new Ten Best list from Playboy irrelevant to my beer drinking life?

I guess I’ve figured out that looking at one person’s opinion is more interesting than a list done by consensus. The Playboy list was a committee effort. Bill Brand has more insight on the selection process since he was a voter.

Abernathy took his inspiration from a BBC feature “50 things to eat before you die” – unaware that (the venerable) British beer writer Roger Protz wrote a book titled 300 Beers to Try Before You Die a couple years ago. At the time my thought was that tracking down the 300 beers might be a fun project, although once you got to 299 it would be best to stop.

(“Wait, Mr. Angel, I’ve still got a date with the Duvel.”)

Back to Abernathy’s list. What I like most is the spirit in which beers were chosen.

For No. 49 he picks homebrew, writing “Yep, just ‘homebrew.’ Any homebrew. I’m not going to quibble about style, or presentation, or region, or any of that. (Well, I hope it will at least be good.) But I don’t think anybody can call their beer drinking experience complete without drinking some homebrewed beer.” And No. 50 is “You local brewery’s beer.”

There are also “on the scene” picks – meaning go there (say Belgium) and drink beer unique to the region (say lambic).

What I like least – other than the presence of the godawful Cave Creek Chili Beer – is that there are only 50. I take one look at his American West Coast picks and think, no North Coast, no Lost Abbey, no Bear Republic, no Elysian … (stopping to wipe the tears) no Lost Abbey, no AleSmith, no Russian River (finally overcome and unable to go on).

What I thus decided is that my favorite list might be the one with the most beers. Thus this one is five times better than Playboy’s, but Protz has assembled a list that is 30 times superior.

Describe the flavor, please

Stephen Beaumont takes the Globe and Mail for its lack of, well, tasting notes in its “tasting notes.” He’s put off by the lack of meaningful descriptors.

That Beer Tastes Like What?, he asks at World of Beer. Cutting to the chase: “It would be helpful if on occasion the words printed had at least a little meaning.”

There are two parts to this. Back in May, a reader made an excellent comment about how developed (or underdeveloped) our beer vocabulary is. That’s true among those of us who are trying. Instead of simply noting a beer’s aroma is fruity it would be better if I said melon, strawberry or banana.

The second part, of course, is a matter of making the effort. Back to you, Mr. Beaumont:

Sadly, this kind of reporting is typical of when non-beverage writers decide to turn their hands to beer and demonstrative of the lack of respect the art of brewing tends to receive in the mainstream press. … By way of comparison, flip the page and in his “Wines and Spirits” column, Beppi Crosariol describes the Babich Black Label Sauvignon Blanc as “lighter in body but still powerful and exuberant — and containing big notes of gooseberry, tropical fruit and herbs — ending with crisp acidity on the long finish.”

One writer here is doing his job. And the other?

Now it’s Playboy’s turn

Playboy magazine has assembled a list of the top 10 American “microbrews.” I don’t have more to say on the subject of such lists than I wrote in September when Men’s Journal published its “25 Best” list.

Although I will note I like the MJ list better simply because it had 25 beers, allowing the authors to pick a wider a range.

Jack Curtin has a nice summary at The Beeryard (where I learned about this), including who was on the panel that picked the beers and the methodology behind the choices. Or you can read “Brew Romance” at Playboy Online – if you’re not in a public library or someplace else that will surely have the website blocked.

The idea of naming a Best 10 or Best 25 is just as silly now as it was in September, but the trend here – mainstream publications with “desirable” demographics paying attention to the beer we drink – is almost exhilarating.

I feel positively cutting edge.

Beer myth: Tongue taste map

Had I made a list of significant beer events in 2006 I surely would have mentioned the arrival of three new glossy magazines, two of them – Draft and Beer Advocate – dedicated to beer and a third – Imbibe – about beer and other drinks.

Just a year ago you could find just one, All About Beer, at the newsstand. (That’s not to overlook two magazines devoted to homebrewing or all the regional brewspapers.)

We should be happy about the change. That typed, I’ve got to shake my head at the “Test your tongue” feature in DRAFT.

In this two-page spread you have photos of three people opening their mouths widely and sticking out their tongues. We get the details on three beers (in other words, one per mouth). There are words about how each tastes on the sides of the tongue, how each tastes on the tip (always emphasizing sweetness), and how each tastes on the back (discussing bitterness), with lines pointing to the various places on the tongue.

Hope that all makes sense to you – you might might find it easier to understand if you just pick up a copy (at many Borders and Barnes & Noble stores).

I’ve got three problems with this feature:

– It’s unsightly.
– It’s based on a factually incorrect tongue taste map. We basically taste everything everywhere we have taste buds, not in particular areas. The map arose early in the 20th century as a result of a misinterpretation of research reported in the late 1800s. If you Google the subject you’ll find the map is still being presented as fact. But here’s the real truth.
– There’s little discussion of flavor beyond sweetness, sourness and bitterness. And there’s nothing about aroma.

Aroma is worth a four-part series, but to make the point I ask you only that you take a good-size sip of your favorite beer. Now hold your nose and do it again.

Class over. Enjoy the rest of the beer.